Morris tribune., 1887-01-05

from those who are the victims or
drink. AS one drunkard said long
ago:
"Men may talk about romances-if they
want u sharp sensation.
Let them get the real story of n drunkards
degradation;
OF the pangs that sober moments bring
with agony to NIL him,
And the hearer gets a novel that will inter-
est and thrill him."
But far be it from my pen to repeat
these sad stories for such purpose.
The reason we seek to lift the curtain
a little from some of these sOrrOwful
homes is not for the sake OF writing q
thrilling narrative, but that the sad
truths brought to light may perhaps
impress the moderate drinker or the
beginner in this downward way.
Even yet in this nineteenth century
we meet with some people who tell us
plainly that they are not interested
in our work: that they see no reason
why they should pledge themselves
to abstain from Intoxicating drinks.
Not only do men object to our meet
inSs, but women, for whose sake we
have organizeu-women, whom all
own to be the greatest sufferers from
this evil-even woman sometimes
feel and speak coldly ofour efforts to
reclaim those who have fallen
through drink.
Oh, for some power to arouse these,
our sisters, to make them see and un-
derstand the reasons why We organ
ize For God, for home, for native
landu'
One of our earnest workers told US
Recently of an old schoolmate whom
she had been trying to enlist in the
work. They had been intimate friends
in heir girlhuod, and after each had
taken up womanhood's sacred privil-
eges, still kept the friendly feeling for
each other. When the Ohio crusade
first awakened many earnest woman
to the temperance work, our friend
was among the first to join heart ana
soul in it. Meeting her old friend one
day, she laid the matter fully before
her, and ended by saying
"Will you not join us in this great
cause? With your wealth, your tai
snts, your leasure and your many
friends. you could be the means in
Gods hands OF winning many souls
from the darkness of intemperance." "
But the lady listened with cold in
difference to her pleading, and re-
piled:
Il am not interested IN your work.
Wine is used moderately every day
in my home, and l do not see the
need of my pledging myself to ab-
stain from its use. No; cannot unite
with your society"
Years passed on; the friends were
separated for time, and even letters
were only few and short. Our friend
spent as much time as she could in
speaking, writing, and i'll everyway
aiding the temperance work. One
night she received a note by a mes
senger, from her old friend, begging
that she would come to her at once.
At the end of the journey she saw the
house shut up, and Grape on the door.
Inside her friend awaited her with a
stony face and fearless eyes, and led
her at once into the spacious drawing
room, where, i'll an elegant casket,
covered with the costliest flowers,
lay the body of her only son. The
bloated, disfigured face of the young
man, who was scarcely out of his
teens, told the sad story. Delirlum
tremens had found one more victim
in this idol of his mothers heart. AS
our friend gazed sadly Oh the cold,
Iifeless form, and contrasted it with
the boy as she had formerly known
him, her heart was to full for words.
Almost lmpatiently the mother asked, /,
"Why do you not comfort me?
Cannot you say something to help
me bear this death-blow to my hopes
this crushing sorrow?"
What could she say? What could
you have said, dear reader, under
such circumstances?
The mother broke out into bitter
mourning for her dead: "Oh, my
boy, my boy! MY first-born! was it
for this that went down into the
valley of the shadow of death to give
you life? Was it for this that 1 gave
you the fullest, best love Of my heart ?
Oh, my Charley, my boy! gone for
ever, and in such a way?"
Going to q drawer in a table near
her, she took out little pair of half
worn shoes, and gazed at them 80
fondly. "The very first pair of boots
my darling baby had! Just see the
marks left by his little foot! Every
birthday during all these years l have
taken them out, and wept tears OF
gladness oyer my precious child.
Why did not somebody tell me how
his dearly priced life would end! Oh,
why dad not see the danger before
| it was too late! When people told
| me he was getting wild and to fond
of his glass, would not believe it,
but at once banished all temptation
to him from my table and his home.
But he could not conquer the appetite,
and only went from bad to worse.
Friends advised me to send him to q
home for people tempted as he was,
where he would be watched and not
permitted to touch, taste or handle
| the drink that had been his ruin. Fol-
a few months he seemed to be better,
really growing able to do without the
| poison. But one fatal day he eluded